


Make Your Mind Up

by Silicu (silmil)



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmil/pseuds/Silicu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the ringtone for an unknown number woke him in the middle of the night, the last thing Marco expected to hear upon picking up was <em>"So, I might or might not have set something on fire. Wanna bail me out?"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Mind Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImperialMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/gifts).



> For the 7th Day of [MarcoAce Week 2](http://deer-head-xiris.tumblr.com/post/118649606810/marcoace-week-2), Random. 
> 
> Great thanks to [lunarshores](http://archiveofourown.org/users/damichan) for bearing my ramblings when I had no idea what to do with this prompt, and helping me figure this out xD 
> 
> And, a little late birthday gift to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/pseuds/ImperialMint) in thanks for all the hours I've spent fangirling over her fics <3

_"So, I might or might not have set something on fire. Wanna bail me out?"_

“Sorry, what?”

Marco blinked a few times, trying to make sense of whether or not he was dreaming. It certainly sounded like a dream. If he’d heard correctly.

 _“You do speak English, right?”_ Was the caller snarky, or was that a genuine question? How very unfortunate that his sleep-fogged brain wasn’t cooperating. Time to regress back to a surly teenager and decide everything is meant to be offensive, then.

“Oh, I don’t know do I sound like I’m speaking Swedish? I could if you want me to, eh.”

Because, really, _what_? It was the middle of the night. Marco’d had a long couple of weeks, topped off with an impossibly busy day and Namur wouldn’t leave him alone about _that_ project, and now that he’d finally found some time to sleep, this happens? Where did he go wrong with his life?

“ _Sweet_!” The voice on the other side chirped. It didn’t seem fair that he sounded so cheerful at this time of night. _“Though it might make this conversation kind of difficult, since I don’t speak Viking myself.”_

“The Vikings spoke Old Norse, not-“ Marco cut himself off. This wasn’t Thatch who was teasing him for his peculiar language skills. Right, back on topic. What was the topic, again? “Why are we having this conversation at…” he shot a look at the alarm clock. “half past three AM?”

“ _Cause Smokey_ -“ there was a commotion on the other end, as the stranger snickered. “ _Sorry, His Police Majesty Detective Smoker the Great’s been glaring at me for about ten minutes, and the other two numbers I called either hung up or didn’t pick up. So I thought I should try one more time, before he decided to chain me to a wall on principle. He does that. It used to be fun when we fu-“_ a distinct growling sound that might have been a word sounded from somewhere farther from the receiver _. “ok, ok, I’m shutting up! Jeez!_ ”

“This might just be the most bizarre conversation I’ve had my entire life,” Marco concluded verbally, still reeling from the little rant. Then, to further drive his point across, he added, “And if you knew my family, you’d know that’s saying something.”

There was a short laugh on the other side of the line. The voice sounded very suited to laughter, Marco decided. Then, very pointedly, shoved that thought away.

 _“They sound like a fun bunch. Maybe I should meet them.”_ Oh, they were a lot of things. And yes, fun was one of them. But it usually took more than mentioning that they’re also _clinically insane_ to convince someone of-

Wait, wait, wait. Stop. This wasn’t what was important here. Ok, rewind. What even was this call _about_? Marco went back through his conversation to try and make some sense of it.

“Maybe,” he mumbled distractedly. Then, just to be certain: “Are you in jail?”

 _“Yep.”_ Came the impossibly cheerful reply. Well, that settled that. Now, to the next point.

“And you just… what? Called three random numbers when you were given your phone call?” That couldn’t be right, could it?

 _“Pretty much.”_ Apparently it could.

“Why… don’t you have anyone to bail you out?” And Marco might have sounded incredulous, but this person didn’t sound like a loner, so there had to be a catch.

 _“Ah, Sabo could do that thing where he materializes money out of thin air if I asked, and then there’s Luffy who’d just level the building if he learned I’d been locked up again…”_ There was a certain quality to the voice, suddenly. Just a little quieter, just a touch more tender. Marco could maybe even hear a smile in there.

These people were important to him in a way that was intimately familiar. Marco felt himself warm to the stranger on the other side of the line almost against his will.

That didn’t mean he was just going to drop it.

“So… Why aren’t you calling them, eh?” He asked, as he finally leaned back on his headboard, bidding his sleep farewell.

 _“Cause I forgot my phone,”_ came the simple reply, voice back to that boisterous energy that had to be criminal in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s why he was arrested? No, no there was something about fire?

Still, there was only one way that statement made any sense, as a response to his question.

“And you don’t remember their numbers,” Marco concluded with exasperation.

“ _Nope_.” The man popped the p with such relish Marco had to fight back a laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?” He asked, feeling his amusement drip from every word.

 _“Hey, that’s not fair!”_ That… sounded suspiciously like a pout. _“It took Sabo an entire day before he asked me that the first time!”_

“You must be very predictable,” why… was he bantering with this man? There was something deceptively easy in speaking to him, and he had to fight to remember his caution. This might have been a bad idea.

“ _Only in my unpredictability_ ,” the other boasted gleefully. “ _How many guys do you know who would call a random stranger and ask to get bailed out?”_

“Sadly, at least a couple, eh.” And maybe some affection had spilled through his own tone, too, because the stranger replied with a happy:

 _“Hah! Your family sounds more interesting by the minute!”_ Shortly followed by more of those growling noises and the stranger’s tone shifting noticeably into what must be his business voice. _“So, you got cash? I swear, Sabo will do the money thing and I’ll pay you back as soon as I see him!”_

And that, right there, was why he was supposed to be cautious, no matter how charming the man sounded when his grin all but dripped through his words and-

_Shit. Focus, Marco, focus. You’re supposed to be good at this._

“I’m supposed to believe a complete stranger who burned down something-“

“ _I said I MIGH HAVE_ -“ came the indignant interruption, and Marco corrected himself quickly.

“-who _probably_ burned down something, and release a possibly deadly arsonist back onto the streets of…” he paused. “Are you even _in_ Chicago?”

“ _Duh, I called a local number_ ,” the man sounded so completely affronted that Marco had doubted his intelligence that it was distressingly endearing. _“And, yeah, why not? You can’t tell me it’s the strangest thing you’ve done.”_

Which, granted, it wasn’t. It wasn’t the most irresponsible, and it wasn’t nowhere _near_ the most legally or morally questionable. But those stupid, irrational, spontaneous and often disastrous things, he did for _family_. Or, he did after being heavily intoxicated by said family, and later very pointedly urged to do them by, once again, that very same _family_.

The point was, there was one very noticeable discrepancy in this situation.

_And yet… he’s somebody’s family._

“ _Come on_ ,” that, Marco realized, was a whine. A full-out, I’m-a-five-year-old-child-in-a-candy-store-and-I- _want_ -some type whine. _“Smokey won’t fall for my flirting after the last time and I really don’t feel like sleeping in the cell, it’s not exactly built to be comfortable!”_

Marco still couldn’t get over the whine. It took great effort not to comment on the whine. Luckily, Marco had a lot of experience. Come to think of it,

“Is that the voice of experience I hear, eh?”

_“I forget my phone a lot.”_

There… was really nothing he could say to that.

Another growl. Was there an animal in the station?

 _“Ok, ok, listen,”_ a note of urgency entered the voice. Maybe not an animal, then. _“How about you keep me under house arrest till I can pay you back? I’m pretty sure your couch is much better to sleep on.”_

And, there it was. Ever since that inane question had woken him Marco had unconsciously been procrastinating making his decision. On one hand, he had to be up in… three hours. Make that two. Going to whichever station the man was being held in, covering the paperwork and dealing with the ensuing chaos would ruin any chance he had of catching up on any sleep.

And Pops was planning on finally starting up the project soon and, damn it, Marco needed to have his priorities straight in this.

But… he did.

_He’s someone’s family._

“If you set my house on fire, you’ll be praying for a jail cell,” he heaved himself out of bed and started looking for something to wear. This better not blow up in his face. Literally.

 _“That a yes, then?”_ The man, and damn it, maybe he should’ve asked for a name at least, before he agreed, was back to sounding somewhere between cocky and giddy. How reassuring.

“Tell me where you are, eh.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might one day become something more than the Oneshot it is. In fact, it will probably be at least a two shot, one day, but for the moment I'll leave it at this.


End file.
